True Colors
by Queen of the Dark Knight
Summary: Raoul shows his true colors at last. And Christine is a lot less naive than she is portayed. Based on the final lair scene in ALW.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm not Andrew Lloyd Webber. If I was, Raoul would be dead and/or partnered off with the little Giry before "Think of me" was done. And Carlotta wouldn't have been born. ****  
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Raoul ran down the circular staircase, discarding various articles of clothing as he went. Madam Giry's last words still reverberated in his ears, 'Keep your hand at the level of your eyes'

He did not understand this order, as the ballet mistress had had no time to explain its meaning. She had no time to explain Erik's preferred method of murder: traps and the Punjab lasso. She had no time to explain, and the ignorant vicomte had not bothered to listen, so his hands remained foolishly limp by his sides.

Despite his speed, he pushed him self to go faster. The monster- phantom- had his Christine. He had won her, not the wretched Opera Ghost. He had won the fight in the graveyard, only Christine's wish had stopped his fatal blow. But why? Why had she stopped his sword? If she hadn't, the Phantom would be dead and Christine would be Raoul's and free.

"But maybe," a small, cruel voice whispered in his head, "maybe she likes her chains, and doesn't want to trade them for a gilded cage." Raoul pushed the voice away, burying it under thoughts of how Christine would love him after he saved her from the Phantom. But the voice had done its duty, and a seed of doubt had been planted.

Still occupied with his thoughts on Christine's reaction to his rescue, Raoul let out a shrill scream that would do la Carlotta proud, as the floor dropped out from under him.

Raoul made it to the protculus that marked the entrence to the Phantom's lair in a foul temper. He had narrowly avoided drowning when he fell through the trap door, and had almost had his head cut off twice by wires that remained invisible until the last possible second. Not to mention he had become quite lost and only found the Ghost's home by sheer luck. Needless to say, he was in no mood to parley with the deformed musical genius.

Thusly, the sodden Vicomte approached the gate, exagusted, irritated at having to save his fiancée _again_, and weary of another trap. "Let me in you monster! Let me in so I can take what is rightfully mine." Raoul shouted, banging at the bars. The portcullis lifted silently, and he was so surprised that he promptly fell into the water again.

A beautiful voice came to him from inside the dark, "Come in, good monsieur…What is it that I have that you think belongs to you?"

"Her!" Raoul shouted with as much dignity as he could muster, as he stumbled forward into the shadows, "she belongs to _**me!**_"

The voice, which had been elegant and smooth before, turned cold and terrible, "You presume- You dare think she is a possession to be won at sword point? Is she your slave?"

Raoul, ever the clever suitor, did not hesitate in responding. "Yes! She's a woman. She can be bought and sold as easily as candle sticks, though the candle sticks don't require expensive jewrely. And I will lock her hin a gilded cage so she will never try to leave me aw she did when she so stupidly went to that graveyared."

A single candle fluttered to life in the darkness, quickly followed by many more, illuminating the masked figure Raoul had been desperately looking for. With a cry of triumph, the Vicomte started forward, stopping a few yards away from the madman.

"Foolish boy! You claim that you can own a creature as fine as Christine. Why should I tell you her hiding place? You who would destroy her beauty by letting her wither and die behind bars? Why do you want her?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Raoul snipped, "she is _mine_, I won her from you. I _own_ her. And have you seen her? She is beautiful, and what a fine addition to my home a gem like that will be."

Raoul's words echoed around the chamber, and he swelled with pride and purpose. He quickly shrunk though, when he heard a shriek of indignation- a very feminine shriek.

Christine stepped out into the light from where she'd been hiding in her room. Raoul managed to mutter a quiet curs before she started.

"How dare you?" She spluttered, "how dare you come here."

"Um, how much did you exactly hear?" the Vicomte hesitantly asked.

"All of it," came the cool reply, "you see, my real fiancée. Yes, Erik I choose you- In fact I keep choosing you: the grave yard, the opera-sorry about that dear. I had to get you to move, the gendarmes were surrounding us. Anyways, my dear sweet Erik had an ingenious idea to get you to show your true colors. It worked brilliantly, if I do say so myself." Christine paused her tirade for a moment as she untied something from her side.

"Erik, this is me proving I choose you, not this fop. And Raoul? You forgot something very important."

The Vicomte murmured, staring at the object in her hand, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." His arm moved quickly, but it was too late, the lasso was already around his neck. The last thing Raouls say before blacking out, was his now ex-fiancée passionately kissing the Phantom of the Opera.

_Not fair, _he thought, _she never kissed me like that…_

When Raoul de Chagny woke up, the first thing he noticed was blue sky. The second was that he was floating in water. _Crap,_ he thought, as the Notre Dame floated by, _they dumped me in the Seine._

The Vicomte decided, once and for all, that London was quite lovely this time of year. In fact, it was quite lovely every time of year. He would relocate there at once.

As the Vicomte chose to leave his old life behind, a newly wedded couple far below, in the catacombs of Paris created a new life for themselves: a life where they would have music, love- and more importantly, each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a bit shorter, but I felt like if I actually described the ceremony, it would be unoriginal (or at least heavily overdone). Instead, I felt like giving Erik a few jitters... Hope you enjoy! -QDK**

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, felt nervous. This was not the usual "butterflies in the stomach" nerves, but the gut wrenching "Oh lord, I think I am going to vomit" kind of nervousness. Nothing Erik did cal4med the broiling in his stomach. Even Madam Giry's words of comfort before she was rushed away by little Meg had helped. Nothing was of any use, the fierce some Phantom was terrified – of marriage.

On the other side of the Opera Populaire, Christine Daée was the picture of serenity. She sat perfectly still as the ballet mistress pinned her long curls in an ornate chignon and Meg chattered as she applied Christine's makeup. Meg's gossiping was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Madam giry, now finished, crossed the room to open it.

"Yes?" She asked, raising a pointed eyebrow at the sheepish man revealed behind the door.

"I was sent by a Nadir Khan. He paid me to tell a Christine Daée that her fiancée has fainted in his room." Muttered grumbling followed his remark, causing Madame Giry to turn and catch Meg passing Christine a few coins and a couple notes.

At her disapproving look, Christine unrepentantly explained. "He fainted first. I told Meg I'd always bet on my soon-to-be-husband."

"And he won't ever actually be your husband, if he is unconscious throughout the ceremony," Madame coolly pointed out.

Christine smirked, as she leaned over and produced a bag she had hidden below the vanity. "I came prepared." She gracefully stood, and crossed the room despite Meg's protests about the groom seeing his bride before their wedding.

Christine reached the other side of the theater quickly, long strides propelling her thought its empty halls.

Upon reaching the door to Erik's dressing room, Christine barged in without knocking. The sight that greeted her caused her to stop, and double over laughing. She stopped rather quickly, however, after seeing the disapproving expression of an out-of-breath Madame Giry.

Thrying to hide her smirk, Christine knelt next to her fiancée. Producing a small jar of smelling salts from her mystery bag, Christine hesitated, then quickly checked his sleeves and pockets for the infamous Punjab lasso. Finding it, she tucked it into her gown's bodice – much to madam Giry's annoyance and Meg's delight. Christine opened the jar, and waved the potent smelling contents under Erik's nose. Within seconds, the now conscious man started upright, stuck his hand into the pocked which has previously held the lasso, and then blinked in confusion when he produced a lacy woman's handkerchief.

Reaching into her dress, Christine held up the weapon before flirtatiously asking, "Looking for this?"

The Opera Ghost lunged for it, but he moved too slow, as the wily soprano had already returned it to its resting place within her dress. In response to Erik's glower, Christine shrugged, and said while batting her eyes at him, "You wouldn't want to accidently strangle your bride, now would you?"

At her words, Erik paled. Sinking back to the floor, he started to explain. "Christine I-". Erik paused before trying again "I-"

Sensing his distress, Christine shushed him before shooing their witnesses out of the room. "What is wrong, dear?" she prodded.

"I don't know if I can do this Christine,: Erik placed a finger over her lips when she began to protest. "I don't know if I'll make a good husband. I know how to make people fear me. I know how to intimidate men. But I don't know how to be a husband. I don't know how to be a lover. And I don't want you to be ashamed of me or regret marrying me. "

At his confession, Christine gently climbed into his lap, where he buried his nose in her hair. Leaning back into him, Christine gently removed the white mask from his face. With the object in her lap, she reached up and kissed the unmarred side of his face. "You will make a wonderful husband," she stated, before kissing his deformed side as well. "Because even knowing about everything, every person you have killed," she moved to stare him directly in the eyes, "I still love you." At her words, Erik leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. After a minute of this, Christine reluctantly pulled away. "You better?" she asked.

"Much," was the reply, as the Phantom leaned forward again to kiss his fiancée.

"Then let's get hitched old man." Christine giggled at Erik's expression, as she jumped to her feet. Erik followed her more slowly, and once he was in a standing position, held out an expectant hand. Christine asked innocently, "What do you need love?"

Erik leaned forward so that his mouth was directly next to her ear, "You know what, my little minx."

Smirking, Christine turned and walked to the door. With her hand on the ornate handle, she looked back at her fiancée. "You'll have to come and get it."

A stunned Erik watched his bride open the door before stepping out and closing it behind her. Overcoming his shock, the Phantom slowly smiled to himself. His once pupil had no idea what he would do to her. All his concerns forgotten, Erik hurried out of the room, closing the door on his fears- and his loneliness- forever.


End file.
